


Shed the Death.  1/1.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Bites and Bruises, Biting, Breathplay, F/F, Guro, In Public, Roleplay, Scarification, Scars, Zombies, guro as costume, halloween fic, taking costume off, zombie costume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Re-post from LJ.  Recently, I was asked what my favorite fic of my own was and I have a few favorites for different reasons, but this was the one that came to mind as my favorite.Original description:  Shed The Death. Serena/Andrea. R rated concept and smex.  Kinks: guro, public, roleplay, bites and bruises, scars/scarification, and breathplay. Serena, the lead costume designer at the theatre/film company Knife’s Edge, has an unusual fascination with the death she costumes and later removes.  Read the notes about Guro before you read.No character death in the backstory or present story; serious car accident briefly mentioned in backstory.AMAZING BETAS:  Jah728 and Pdt_bear  :)





	Shed the Death.  1/1.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jah728](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jah728/gifts), [pdt_bear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdt_bear/gifts).



> A/N: The category of ‘guro’ appeared on Kink Bingo a while ago. I have struggled with how I could get my mind around it, let alone write it. In looking at my bingo cards for this year, I put on the Halloween lens. It lead to some ideas with boy!Andy for Halloween that I might pursue. However, I don’t like to take the easy route on a writing challenge so that wasn’t engaging enough. Somehow, I decided that Serena had turned her back on fashion/glam. This lead to her working at an underground theatre/film company that either specializes in zombie type stuff or was at the time of this fic. Because of her backstory, which is hinted at, she is fascinated with this cosmetic death. During the course of working on this, I remembered that in KB the kink needs to be the erotic focus in order to meet the challenge. Quite frankly as I wrote, I squicked myself out and had to remind myself that 1: this is clearly a scenario made possible by the behind-the-scenes theatre setting, and 2: the point of ‘guro’ is the fascination with the grotesque and it often provokes disgust and desire. I believe this fic fascinates and provokes, thus meeting the writing challenge. As with many writing challenges I have attempted—I am not sure if I ever will again.

 

 

_“Undress._  
Take off your clothes.  
Take off your body.  
Hang them up behind the door.  
Tonight we can go deeper than disguise.”  
  
Jeanette Winterson. language costumier. The Powerbook.  
  
  
  
**_Shed The Death_**  
  
“There you go, gruesome.” Her smile curved across her face lighting all the way up to her eyes. Lovingly, the blonde patted the dirty shoulder as she carefully avoided the fake organic ooze made up of a mish mash of blood, organs and dirt. “Come back alive and I’ll help you out of your costume.” Her blue eyes sparkled with a promise that could not be refused, even if it wasn’t entirely understood.  
  
A visibly mangled hand reached up, dangling fingertip pointing toward the ground. The mouth silently moved a couple of times, until a groan oozed out of the dry throat, like it was scraping the esophagus with the sound waves as it gurgled up. “Uuuuuggggghhhhhhh.”  
  
Playfully, the costumer poked the zombie in the stomach before scolding, “None of that now. You can eat me later.”  
  
Shuffling closer on literally uneven legs, Zombo reached up the other hand in a longing gesture as she smacked her mouth open and closed with an  _‘I want to bite/suck/eat/have you’_  sort of zombie intonation.  
  
Letting her Latin temper flare up into her eyes, the taller unharmed and fully brained woman firmly placed her hands on the Zombo’s shoulders and turned it around. “I just heard the caterer offering ‘fresh brains’.  Go get ‘em.” Amusement colored her voice as she gently but definitely gave a little push forward.  
  
It was terribly out of character when the zombie’s shoulders drooped slightly and a small sigh escaped its caked and decaying lips; however, Serena would not be baited. She was responsible for the look, not the characterization. It would be her lover’s hell to pay, if she didn’t shuffle and groan into the scene properly when the time came. Zombo breathed in and waited a few seconds, as if it was scenting the air for fresh meat or listening for the rustling of a victim trembling in fear. Then, defeated, it sighed once more and began an agonizingly slow shuffle away. Crossing her blue cashmere covered arms across her chest, Serena just shook her head at the sight. As she watched, she hoped that all of the pieces would remain intact. She supposed her fear pointed to the fact that she had done a good job—zombies should look like they are going to fall apart at any moment—they were walking decay.  
  
Later, when the day was done, and the cameras had rolled their last—Serena would undo the death she had created. She would stick her fingers into holes and pull the surface apart. With hands too vigorous to be gentle, the blonde would cleanse the surface until it was raw.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
In the shadows, the blonde shifted her weight from side to side. The darkness of the scene suited the streak of iniquity, she had developed in recent years. Once the careful arbiter of fashion and all things glam, the beautiful woman had let her heart be dashed on the altar of the runway. Like so many punks sticking their noses up at the Machine and traditional Beauty and the Man, Serena found herself drawn to the purity found in decay, and the beauty found in the corruption of perfection.  
  
The best in the biz.  
  
It meant different things to different people. At one time, she had bowed down on her knees to the silver goddess of fashion. She wouldn’t have even looked down on her current life, because she would not even have known of its existence. How fortuitous it had been that at the end of the Rabbit Hole, she had found such a wondrous colorful life just waiting for her to step into it.  
  
_Knife’s Edge_  was the premier underground theatre company in New York City. Counter culture, coffee culture, and college culture all came together in this nexus. In this place, her fashion contacts were no more important than her knowledge of how well her costuming would hold up before decaying at just the right moment in a scene. However, her ability to re-create that look for multiple shows in a theatre run, or for multiple takes of the same shot for film—that was where she truly shone.  
  
The tall brunette, who often wore little more than a skimpy white tank top and short black shorts, provided her with the perfect canvas to work on. The long lines of the other woman’s legs, the leonine curve of her neck, the pout of her cupid’s bow mouth and the depth of her alternately soul-full or soul-less brown eyes allowed Serena to do anything she wanted to her. Those same features covered in artful decay or cleansed of the daily gruesomeness would do anything she wanted as well.  
  
In this scene Zombo watched on as her former lover turned away from her into the arms of their mutual friend for comfort and protection. The storyline hinged on the line between humanity and zombie, where it was unclear that the person was truly gone, especially in the early stages of succumbing to the bite. It was heartbreaking to see one love torn asunder as a new love—a new story rose from its ashes. Idly, Serena thought on Romeo’s love for Rosaline being passed over for his love of Juliet. How fickle was Shakespeare? Both were dead within the week in any case. What of Rosaline? Did she mourn her former lover? Rejoice in the fall of her replacement? Perhaps Shakespeare would have appreciated the mental storyboard in her head of Rosaline going zombie while Romeo pined after her, only to be saved by Juliet, before he too could be overtaken by the slow horror of an approaching zombie. She wondered if she could convince Richard to do an Elizabethan piece. Her mind worked over the costuming possibilities and she found that she wanted to sully the velvet, rip the corset loops, and have Romeo climbing up the lattice outside of Juliet’s window to escape an approaching zombie horde.  
  
“Cut!” The call came at last. A collective sigh of relief rustled through the set and everyone paused, too tired to move, before hurriedly closing up shop for the day. If they lingered too long, inspiration might strike again and Richard would round them up once more.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Serena helped the others out of their costumes. Returning items to hangers, stashing bits and bobs that could be reused and helping to discard the detritus of imitation decay. Glimpses of her lover, still in costume, made her smile while fragments of her voice and laughter filled the blonde with anticipation. Creation paid for her daily bread, while destruction hurried her heart. At last the area was clear and silence began to reign over the day, just like it would if the zombie story had been real and the bodies were all over taken.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
After the accident there had been silence.  
  
Upside down, Serena’s eyes had fluttered open in the dark. Closed eyelids covered Miranda’s blues and blood had dripped from somewhere onto her face. The silence and the darkness fascinated her as she looked around the partially crumpled interior of the car and outside where the roots of the trees were ‘up’ instead of ‘down.’  _‘Everything is relative,’_  she thought to herself even as she wondered if she had hit her head. She reached out for Miranda, touching the blood on her cheek and whispering for her to wake. It took many moments for her brain to realize that silence also meant help was not on its way. There were no on-lookers. Miranda’s entourage had been left behind. The On-Star was not even inquiring about their status. Her eyes finally landed on the cell phone below her. After considering her lack of options, Serena had unclipped the seatbelt and fallen in a heap on top of the mobile phone. An interminable amount of time passed as she wrapped the silence around herself and hugged the phone. Calling for help had been as painful for the rescue worker as it had been for Serena—she didn’t know where they were, she didn’t know if there were other vehicles, and breaking down in tears, she didn’t know if Miranda would wake up.  
  
The blonde supposed that it was her way of coping. Either she could shut down, freak out, and become a victim or find it fascinating--a series of curiosities decorating the edge between life and death.  Small details all added up to a glimpse of the wonder that was found within the world. She had trailed her fingers in Miranda’s hair looking up at her from this strange angle where Miranda was seated, but somehow Serena was on the roof. The voice in her ear had instructed her and destroyed the silence, until it was replaced by the screaming of the sirens.  
  
The silence had returned in the hospital.  
  
Then it had followed the blonde and her silver haired lover home.  
  
Serena had been the one to move out, but the silver one had been the first to leave. Silence became her mistress.  
  
Serena had found her way through the silence, until she was no longer uncomfortable in its hold. She had embraced its sister darkness as well and thus discovered a whole new world of possibility—living like extremophiles on the edges of existence. Within the darkness and the silence, she had found a world colored by light and flavored by the texture of sound.  
  
She wondered if that was what it felt like to be truly purified by fire.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Slowly, Serena noticed the lights had been turned off while she contemplated the nature of silence and darkness in the world. Only her little make up station light was still on in the performance space. In the dark, she heard the front door shake as the lock was checked. Then she heard the slow shuffling of feet approaching across the almost blackened room. Andrea always closed down the building. She didn’t always stay in costume or character to do it though. Over the months of their courtship, the brunette had discovered things along the way by a mutual desire to share, until their secrets filled the space between them and they could become one. Serena also found that the former reporter’s talent for observation went well beyond the usual picking up of clues for a story and into the subtleties of how well she knew someone by feel instead of fact. Serena wasn’t sure if she knew Andrea the same way; however, she had accustomed herself to the sounds within the silences of what was left unsaid and to finding the light surrounded by a sea of darkness—and that was what Andrea was to her. She trusted that it was enough.  
  
When the slow scuffling steps were taking too long and Serena’s fingers tingled with want, she scolded, “Glacial.”  
  
The Zombo completely stopped moving then. Its vacant eyes stared potentially at her and just as likely at nothing. It swayed slightly on its feet as if the internal decay had arrested its movement as the insides sucked the outsides down. Even in the poor lighting, Serena knew what she looked like, she had slipped in the black contacts herself, slathered the gore on the shirt and pants, and painted on the ghastly pale face and the blood of victims around her mouth.  
  
“Oh my god.” Serena practically moaned at the Zombo’s protesting reaction to her criticism.  
  
The silence extended out between them. This was the herald of life waiting to pounce from the darkness and leave one breathless with want for more. After the accident, the silence had been the harbinger of doom as she and her former lover were injured and the relationship never fully recovered.  
  
The zombie of her lover opened its mouth gasping in air, as it tasted for the scent of the all too willing prey. In this scene, she knew that her lover would not turn away from her like the lover on camera had done. “Uuuuuggggghhhhhhh,” the brunette under the viscous mess of mortality grunted. After a few more moments of emptily working its jaw, the Zombo shuffled forward once more.  
  
Her patience too thin tonight, Serena stepped forward to pull the zombie against her. “You know how that thrills me.” The blonde giggled as the zombie began to bite at her neck, grunting, and grasping to hold onto her, despite the falling apart finger and general lack of coordination characteristic of zombies.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Biting hard into the make-up of the zombie’s lower lip, Serena moaned as she felt it give way. Growling, she tugged to pull the piece away. Andrea moaned as part of her was removed and then with a tender tongue soothed. Serena’s hands were pulling at her clothes, almost petting the outer gore the brunette was covered in. She stepped forward, pushing Zombo further from the light, as her tongue stretched to feel between the falling away of decayed flesh and the heated skin of life revealed beneath the façade. Reaching up, Serena held Zombo’s shoulders as she chased a piece of peeling flesh across Andrea’s cheek. Both knew the skin beneath would have shown red, as the illusion was literally pulled from her face.  
  
Letting her hands close in, Serena wrapped her fingers around the zombie’s neck as it arched back letting an undead, choked, “Uuuuuggggghhhhhhh,” slip past her half dead, but mostly living lips.  
  
Hanging onto the illusion as long as she could, Andrea opened and closed her mouth in that zombie way of wanting more brains and pawed ineffectually at her willing victim. Serena wiggled against her. Those undead fingers not welcome against the fevered flush of her skin. Not yet. Not from beyond the grave.  
  
Serena’s right thumb pressed against her jugular while her fingers tightly hugged her throat. Zombo wasn’t going anywhere, though the tables had slowly been turned—the predator was now prey. The blonde’s left index finger traced the line of her throat down until she gently stroked just the tip of her finger across the infecting bite mark. The site where Azrael’s teeth had punctured her skin, tainted saliva transmitting walking death into the bloody, pumping inner workings of her body.  
  
“Uuuuuggggghhhhhhh,” Zombo groaned again, her desire threatening to overcome her character. The heated blood in her veins screamed for action. After all, the tall, brunette actress called Andrea was flesh and blood and full of desire, once the death had been scraped from her surface.  
  
Shifting, Serena surged forward against her trembling partner, her hands moving rapidly as they pulled open her tattered shirt and fumbled with the button and fly of her dirty jeans. Off kilter the pressure was too much and Zombo stepped back tripping over a forgotten prop. Wanting to stay upright, Andrea reached for her distracted lover. Too late, Serena fell on top of Zombo forcing a moan from the both of them as their legs entwined just enough to tease.  
  
Groaning once more, Andrea tried to breathe in and ignore the pain. Pleasure was so close and she loathed letting it go.  
  
Serena rose up on her knees. Tucking her fingers into the double layer of jeans and cotton, the blonde pulled down just enough to expose her lover’s wetness. Lifting up and back, Serena’s blue eyes flashed with fire in the darkness. Below her Andrea shivered, her restraint beginning to fail as her hopes soared. Flapping her mouth open and closed, the brunette fought hard to not speak. Lifting her arms up toward her lover, she got as close as she could to ‘zombie begging.’ The director would likely have been impressed, though this would never be shared.  
  
Rearranging her body, Serena bent down so that she could kiss Andrea’s living lips as her fingers sought her sex. Bathing her fingers in Andrea’s desire, Serena kissed down the same line her finger had traced earlier. Simultaneously, Serena sank her teeth into the make-up representing the beginning of death, while down the length of her lover’s body her fingers found their home. Tearing away the construct of the bite with her teeth, Serena moaned as her body flexed with the desire that had been building within her, since the first moment of applying the brunette’s make-up.  
  
Retreating, Serena slipped out of Andrea’s pants as she spat the combination of make-up and costume spackle into the darkness. Hovering above Andrea on her knees, Serena commanded, “Shed this skin.”  
  
Keening her delight, Andrea broke character as she wriggled out of her clothes and dragged her hands over the rest of her make-up to pull it away. The broken finger was sent flying as she hurried to reveal herself to her lover. Serena busied herself pulling off her cashmere sweater and then her skirt and tights. Within moments, she was once more directing Andrea with her body.  
  
No longer needing to resist her desires, Andrea rose up. Her hands tangling in blonde hair and then down along her lithe body. Her lips claimed her partner’s lips pressing against her. Their tongues danced together, sharing the moment as they writhed on the floor full of passion, full of life and fully in the moment together, tasting life on their taste buds. Andrea’s fingers tickled against the blonde’s too sensitive ribcage bringing laughter into the moment to seal its truth between them. Just as quickly as she teased, the brunette taunted as her fingers slid against the coarse hairs of Serena’s sex and then down to the damp heat of her folds.  
  
Smiling, Serena bit her lover’s lower lip, this time causing real pain. Andrea’s return bite made her moan as she thrust her body seeking pleasure. Returning to Andrea’s sex, the blonde began a rhythm that pulsed between them like a separate entity that their love created—a force of energy that would burst out from inside them like an immolating fire of life. Moans, the sliding of bodies against the concrete floor, and the wet smacks of sex filled the room, until they each felt the mighty cascade of pleasure just before their bodies undulated in stereo as waves of passion washed over them again and again and again.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Twisting and twirling her hair, Andrea sank the teeth of the clip into the up-do of her hair. Her dark green t-shirt was the softest one that she owned. She just hoped that it survived Serena’s slight love of destruction. It had care worn holes that she was proud of wearing into it. So far Serena had been content to stroke against it. The shower had been cleansing, yet Andrea still felt wobbly on her legs. Reaching up, the brunette stroked against the site of the supposed zombie bite mark. Her lip between her teeth, Andrea stepped forward. She loved it when her lover was like this—so intense, so demanding.  
  
Stepping out of the bathroom, Andrea made her way down the short, dimly lit hallway. Entering the backstage area, she smiled. Slowly sweeping, Serena had gathered the evidence of their return to life into a pile. The broom stopped as her eyes caressed her lover’s long lines. It was a few moments before Andrea realized that her lover looked slightly troubled. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Andrea stepped forward, her eyes trying to follow where the other woman was looking.  
  
After a few more moments of searching, Serena looked up. Her grip tightened on the top of the broom as she batted her eyelashes shyly. “I can’t find your finger tip.” She shrugged as she bit her lip and fought the urge to squirm.  
  
Resting her hand atop her lover’s, Andrea leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “So romantic.” Giggling, she pulled away. Turning her body, Andrea thought about where they must have been and her position, while she was on the ground. Her head tilted sideways a time or two, until she opened her brown eyes and stared into her lover’s blue ones. Turning around, she looked at some costume cases. Andrea bobbed her head as she leaned on her hand atop one of the chests. Eventually she reached down between two of them and pulled back. The mischievous gleam in her eye hinted at her success, but the slowly opened palm and well timed silence made it hilarious. “You wanted a piece of me?” The brunette joked.  
  
“You’re so bad.” Serena scolded as she palmed Andrea’s hand taking the fingertip prop into her custody.  
  
Shaking her head, as she turned and grabbed the dustpan, Andrea retorted. “No, leaving the remains of a devoured zombie for Zach to find in the morning and freak out about would have been bad.” Kneeling, Andrea slid the edge of the pan up to the pile of costume debris. With a raised eyebrow and a finger point from her free hand, Andrea indicated that her lover should get going on the clean-up.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Walking out of the theater, Serena intertwined her fingers with Andrea’s. “Thank you.” She leaned close to Andrea, letting her body rest briefly against her lover’s side, before continuing forward. They walked a few more steps in the quiet night. “I know you don’t understand.” Serena murmured softly, hoping that the breeze would carry her words away. She always felt self-conscious about sharing this with Andrea, even if the brunette had never rejected or judged her.  
  
Andrea stopped walking, letting her hand be pulled as the blonde continued forward. “We are all shaped by the life that carves us.” Andrea squeezed the fingers between her own and then pulled the blonde back to her. She tugged harder as the blonde resisted her. She could see the fear in her lover’s eyes,  _‘Putting words to what happened might pull us apart.’_  Andrea wouldn’t have any of it though as she rested her hands on Serena’s hips. Reaching up, Andrea traced her fingertip along the blue cashmere covered skin of the blonde’s shoulder where the scar from her long ago car accident was a faint line. “Your intensity shows me that you know it is me.” Waiting until Serena’s eyes met her own, she slowly smiled. Their breath was ragged from this different intensity being shared between them. Eventually, Andrea shook her head, not wanting to think of the red headed deceiver in her life, who had always been thinking of another. “You would fight death to have me back.” Blinking slowly, Andrea added, “And I love you for it.” Cupping Serena’s cheeks with her palms, Andrea looked into her eyes and then slowly leaned forward to press a slow simmering kiss to her lips. As they pulled apart, Andrea added, “You have to shed the death to find out what life remains.”  
  
Tears welling in her eyes, Serena nodded.  _‘Sometimes all that remains is silence.’_  She thought as she pushed an image of her silver haired ex-lover from her mind. Hands fisting the soft cotton of Andrea’s green shirt, Serena echoed back her deep emotion, “I love you, Andrea.” Sharing another kiss, the blonde pulled away as Andrea’s stomach growled at her. “Come on, we’ve gotta feed the beast.”  
  
Laughing, Andrea fell into step with her, intertwining their fingers as they went.  


  
**_FIN._**

 

  
x


End file.
